


Decaf Skinny Latte

by victoria_p (musesfool)



Category: Avengers (Comic), Captain America (Comics)
Genre: Coffee, Gen, Hipsters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-03
Updated: 2011-12-03
Packaged: 2017-10-26 19:39:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/287121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musesfool/pseuds/victoria_p
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are still things Bucky doesn't get and doesn't like about the future, but the coffee sure is an improvement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Decaf Skinny Latte

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to DevilDoll and Snacky for encouragement.

Logan is easy to spot in the line at Starbucks, though there are several men in the place who have similar facial hair. Bucky wouldn't have expected muttonchops to ever come back into style (couldn't believe they'd ever been in style in the first place, but then, his face always itches something fierce when he doesn't shave), but then, who could have anticipated hipsters? He gets a vague flash of Paris in the early '60s, men in black turtlenecks and women with angular cheekbones, snapping their fingers. He blinks and it's gone.

Logan grunts in greeting when Bucky shoulders his way onto the line and Bucky grunts in return. One of the things he likes about Logan is his disinclination to small talk, especially after spending time with the kids, who've apparently never met a thought they didn't want to blurt out to whoever was present at the time, or Steve, who most people are surprised to find likes to shoot the shit. Or maybe he just likes talking to someone who remembers the same things he does. Bucky can't always tell anymore, even though he's always thought he knows Steve better than anyone.

When they were young (or younger--whatever--Bucky still expects to see a much older face when he looks in the mirror, can't think of himself as the age he looks rather than the age he _is_ ), Bucky'd been the one with the gift of gab, but that's just another thing Karpov took away. He can still do it if he needs to, but it's not the same effortless charm he'd used to talk girls out of their underwear or Steve into his.

A girl in a baseball cap smiles brightly and says, "Next?"

"Large coffee, black," Logan says. "Whatever's freshest," he continues when she opens her mouth to ask which blend.

"And a venti caramel macchiato," Bucky says, feeling the tips of his ears burning. "Extra foam."

"Jesus," Logan mutters.

"Shut up."

He pays for their drinks and tells her his name is James when she asks, and he can hear the marker squeak as she writes it on the cup.

"Never thought you'd be one for that pansy-assed fancy coffee crap," Logan says when they get their coffee and find a table. Bucky pops the cover off his cup and inhales the sweet steam. The barista's drawn a heart in the foam. His face gets hot; he might actually be blushing now, which is something that doesn't happen very often.

"Even I know you're not supposed to say 'pansy' anymore." He remembers the looks on the kids' faces, though it wasn't until after he'd met Billy and Teddy that he understood why they'd taken it so personally.

"Eh," Logan says. "I don't care who you fuck. I care that you put gross shit in your coffee and I have to smell it."

"S'good," Bucky says and takes a sip. He'd always liked his coffee light and sweet, had gone without for years during the war, when it was always black and thick as tar when it was available at all. It hadn't been until he'd basically moved in with Steve that he'd discovered that coffee, like everything else, was completely different from anything he remembered. He must have known, must have made contacts and met assets in coffee shops just like this over the years, but he'd never ordered it anything but black. Karpov had had no imagination.

"For kids and dames, maybe."

"Steve practically lives on the gingerbread latte when it's available," Bucky answers mildly. "You gonna tell him he's a dame?"

" _He_ wouldn't be insulted," Logan says, laughing.

"True." Bucky takes another sip of coffee and then says, "Wait, you think I'm insulted?"

"Ain't you?"

Bucky actually considers it for a minute, and then shakes his head. "No. I like women. They're generally good people."

Logan leans back and eyes him skeptically. "You were acting all squirrelly about the coffee though."

"I don't want people thinking I'm a hipster douchebag." He gestures at Logan with his cup. "You, on the other hand, you'd fit right in with Steve's PBR-drinking neighbors."

"Nothing wrong with a six-pack of PBR and a hockey game. Sounds like a perfect Friday night to me."

"Sure, but you wouldn't be doing it ironically."

"How do you watch hockey ironically?"

"You got me, brother. I'm just reporting the facts as I am told them."

"How do you even know this shit?"

"You guys made me den mother to a bunch of sixteen-year-olds, or did you forget? Doesn't your sidekick keep you updated on the latest trends?"

"She's not my sidekick. I don't have sidekicks. She's my protégé."

"Whatever you say. I know a sidekick when I see one."

"True, you are the most qualified for that."

Bucky flips him off and Logan laughs again.

After that, they sit and drink their coffee in companionable silence.

When he's done, Logan gets up and rolls his neck until it cracks, and says, "Same time next week?"

Bucky nods. "Sure. Unless the world needs saving again."

"See you then."

On his way out, Bucky gets himself another caramel macchiato, and a gingerbread latte for Steve. There are still things he doesn't get and doesn't like about the future, but the coffee sure is an improvement.


End file.
